Appendages
by paperstorm
Summary: <html><head></head>Sam admits to occasionally missing getting to enjoy certain feminine attributes. Dean has a solution. Wincest, takes place in Season 1.</html>


**SO the news about us getting a 7th season got me all excited, and then this happened. I was in a really strange mood. And extremely sleep-deprived. *hands***

* * *

><p>"Hey, can I ask you a question?" Sam begins quietly.<p>

Dean looks up from the sawed-off he's wiping down. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

Sam shifts uncomfortably. He's not sure exactly what's fueling him to bring this up, but for some reason he has this sudden urge to ask. "You … when I was at school, you were with a lot of people, right?"

Dean fixes him with a strange look. "With _how_? You mean like …"

"Yeah," Sam nods. "Like that."

"Oh." Dean glances away and clears his throat. "Uh … yeah, I guess so. Why?"

"Were you ever … with guys?" Sam asks, absently picking at a hangnail so he doesn't have to look directly at Dean.

Dean stares for a moment, considering Sam with a funny look in his eyes. Then he puts the gun down and turns in his chair so he's facing Sam fully. "Are you asking me if I've ever had sex with another guy?"

Sam nods, his face heating up.

"No," Dean says simply. "I haven't. Just you."

"Me too," Sam answers. "I mean, I haven't either, with anyone but you."

"Okay." Dean raises an eyebrow. "That's … why are you asking?"

Sam shrugs. "I just … are you … gay?"

Dean takes a sip of water right as the words come out of Sam's mouth and he chokes, coughing and spluttering for a minute before he can talk.

"Am I _what?_" he laughs. "No! Why? Are _you_?"

"I don't know! No, I … I mean …" Sam trails off, rubbing his eyes as he sighs in frustration. "I don't know. That's what I'm trying to figure out here, man, I mean – I've only been with three people in my life. Technically that means a third of the sex I've had has been …you know. That's gotta mean something, right?"

Dean blinks owlishly at him. "I … I guess? I'm not – what are you gettin' at?"

"I was with Jess for, well, for like a year and a half," Sam forces himself to say; chest clenching with the usual ache he gets whenever he thinks about her. "But now I've been with you again for – I don't know, however long it's been, and I love you, you know I do, but … just …"

"Okay, seriously, whatever it is just spit it out," Dean stands up and smirks. "I am not above tickling it out of you."

Sam huffs in annoyance. "Do you ever miss … like … what girls have? Like, that I don't?"

Dean's jaw clenches as he attempts not to laugh. Sam can see a muscle working in his jaw, but his jerk big brother just frowns and pretends not to know exactly what Sam's talking about.

"I'm sorry, I … I don't quite …" he gestures vaguely and feigns innocence.

"Boobs!" Sam snaps, finally losing his cool even as his cheeks explode in a blush. "Sometimes I miss boobs, okay? God!"

Dean loses it; bursting into laughter so hard he doubles over. "You should see your face!" he wheezes. "So what, you wish I had a nice, big pair of tits you could hold onto while you're fucking me?"

Sam scowls. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

"I'm aware, yes," Dean snickers.

Sam's face and neck are burning so much his eyes have started to sting. He should _never_ have brought this up. Dean's never gonna let him live it down. Not to mention the fact that he feels kinda awful about it, like somehow he's going behind Dean's back by checking out the occasional waitress. Which Sam realizes is completely irrational, because Dean does the same thing all the time. But he can't help it.

"So what, you_ never_ miss being with girls?" he demands.

Dean shrugs. "Yeah, sure I do. From time to time. I'm a red-blooded American, Sammy. I like tits."

"Then why are you laughing at me?"

"Because you look so damn _guilty_ about it," Dean snorts, wiping one of his eyes with thick fingertips. "Like you think you're cheating on me by thinking about snatch."

"You – that's not – " Sam splutters, but it's useless.

"Whatever, dude." Dean shakes his head, grinning like an idiot as he slips toward the bathroom. "If you weren't such a prude we could just have a good, old fashioned threesome and rid of all that repressed sexual tension of yours. Too bad you blush and go all 'aww, shucks Ma'am' every time a pretty girl even looks your way, you respectful young man, you."

"Fuck you, I do not! You're an asshole," Sam repeats mutinously.

Dean just laughs again and shuts the door behind him. A minute later, Sam hears the shower start running. He's never trying to talk to Dean about anything personal ever again. Seriously, never.

* * *

><p>A few days later, Sam's curled up on the bed with his laptop open in front of him, absently browsing a few local news websites in a lazy attempt to find them a job, when Dean bursts through the door with a brown paper bag and a mischievous grin on his face that almost guarantee's Sam is <em>not<em> going to like what's about to happen.

"Hey, Sammy," he says coyly.

Sam rolls his eyes. "You were supposed to get food. My stomach is eating itself over here."

Dean shrugs and toes out of his boots. "I got somethin' better."

"There's no way that bodes well for me." Sam shuts his computer and glances warily at the crinkled bag in Dean's hand. "Alright, lay it on me. At least tell me it's not something illegal."

"Right, because this would be the first time we've ever done something illegal," Dean laughs. "Guess."

Sam sighs. "Dean, c'mon."

"Alright fine, killjoy."

Dean pretends to sulk for a second, and then he slowly inches something flat and rectangular out of the bag. Sam squints and quickly realizes it's a DVD, with … holy shit, with two very naked girls on the front and a title with way too many X's where they definitely don't belong. Sam feels all the blood drain out of his face.

"You didn't."

Dean grins even wider. "I fuckin' _did_. Apparently, it's about an ambitious young girl who wants nothing more than to join the fine, upstanding organization that is the U.S. Marines. But first she has to … prove herself." Dean quirks an eyebrow so Sam gets the double meaning.

Sam laughs shakily because it's either that or run away and never, ever talk about this again. Dean _can't_ be serious. He just can't. "You … you wanna watch porn?"

"No, I want _us_ to watch porn." Dean tosses the plastic case over to the bed like a Frisbee, and Sam deliberately avoids looking at it.

"You want – no. No way." Sam shakes his head so hard his bangs scratch as they hit his eyes.

"You're the one who said you were jonesing for some sweater meat, dude," Dean points out, crossing his arms and raising both eyebrows now.

"Yeah, but – god, I didn't mean … _this_," Sam stutters, gesturing to the DVD case he's still refusing to take a good look at.

"Well then what did you mean?"

"I – Jesus, I don't know! Nothing, I didn't mean a damn thing." Sam grabs his laptop and brusquely moves it to the bedside table. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean all but whines. "Don't you wanna see the busty blonde sensation Bree Olson pass her, ahem, _entrance exams_?"

Sam actually shudders uncontrollably. "Holy _shit_, Dean, do you remember that our _father_ was in the Marines? Do you have any idea how creepy that is?"

"Oh for fuck's sake, just shut up and watch the damn pussy porn with me!" Dean snaps, exasperated but not really angry. He grabs the movie and shoves it roughly into the player, pushing Sam over on the bed so he can settle against the headboard next to him.

Dean presses play and a perky, slight blonde flashes onto the screen, lounging on a bed in tiny shorts and an even tinier pale purple t-shirt; chatting on a cell phone. Sam's dimly surprised – even in the barely-there outfit she doesn't have that trashy, porn star look like the girls in the videos Dean usually watches. She's actually quite sweet looking; big brown eyes and a pretty smile. Put her in a few more items of clothing and she wouldn't look out of place at a mall or a college campus. But then the cheesy porno dialogue kicks in ("Oh, Sergeant Lay, you're _so_ hot. It's okay that you're married. I'm sure your husband wouldn't mind at _all_.") and Sam can't help huffing and rolling his eyes. Alright, fine, he's a dude – the idea of two girls having sex is hot, but he really wishes they wouldn't talk first. The bad acting and laughable writing really takes away from whatever realism a movie like this actually has. And he's still pretty sure he doesn't want to do this with Dean sitting right there. The blond chick is cute, for sure, and the other one (the brunette _Marine_ recruiter in a practically nonexistent uniform, dear god) was probably pretty about ten years ago, but even Sam has to admit they don't look half bad with their tongues in each other's mouths. They look good, even – almost romantic, actually, as if they mean something to each other more than just underpaid actresses in an adult movie. His own lips tingle at the sight, like a sense memory of the last time Dean kissed him like that, all grabby hands and hot, needy mouths and swallowed moans. Sam watches with rapt attention as the women pull each other's clothes off; the blonde's tight shirt sliding up and off to reveal perfect breasts – pert and full but just soft enough looking that they're probably real. She gasps softly as the older woman attaches her mouth to a caramel colored nipple, and the blush creeps further down Sam's neck but his dick stirs in his pants all the same. He likes those breathless, broken sounds girls make; always has.

But he likes it even better when he can get _Dean_ to whimper like that.

Speaking of, Dean shifts beside him and Sam starts a little as he remembers his brother is still sitting there; not quite touching but close enough that when Sam thinks about it he can feel the heat from Dean's body beside him.

"She's pretty hot, right?" Dean smiles and pokes Sam gently in the ribs. "And the other one's a fuckin' cougar."

Sam rolls his eyes. "I guess."

"You guess?" Dean shakes his head. "Dude, its lesbians! Naked, licking, rubbing lesbians! I should revoke your man membership on _principle_ for not gettin' revved up by this!"

"I never said I wasn't – " Sam shoots a quick glare over at his smirking brother. "Can we just not talk right now?"

"Fine, fine." Dean holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you want, princess."

Sam rolls his eyes again, so hard this time his occipital cavities are starting to hurt, but as he does he catches a glimpse of Dean reaching down and rubbing himself through the fabric of his jeans. Sam's breathing quickens and he forces his gaze back toward the screen. Some time during the last few minutes the pair have moved to a bed, both stripped completely naked now; the blonde lying on her back with the brunette's head buried between her legs. Sam can't really tell from that particular angle exactly what she's doing but he has a good enough idea, and the younger girl is writhing and groaning so convincingly that Sam would be seriously impressed if they weren't real gasps of pleasure. On second look, the blonde girl is actually quite stunning. She's toned with just the right amount of soft curves; tanned skin that looks like it would be ridiculously silky, and a face that's far too pretty for medium-grade porn. She doesn't have that fake, overly made up, trailer trash look. Other than the glaring fact that she's currently naked and being licked for money, she looks almost _wholesome_; like she could be someone's little sister. That thought makes Sam sad for a few moments, but then her round, brown eyes flutter closed and she lets out a moan that is nothing short of filthy, and Sam's dick reminds him of what he's actually supposed to be thinking about right now.

When he chances another glance over at his brother, Dean's hand has slipped into his own jeans and is stroking slowly – Sam can see a wet spot soaking through the denim and for a minute he forgets how to breathe. Dean's eyes are intense and trained on the TV screen, and if he notices Sam staring he doesn't mention it, so after a few long moments Sam shifts to make himself more comfortable and tries to get himself in to the movie. If they're really gonna do this, he might as well at least try to enjoy it. It's been months since he's spent more than five minutes with himself like this, and even then it's usually with Dean hammering on the bathroom door as the hot water runs out. For the most part, he and Dean have been together enough since they started hunting together again that Sam doesn't really _need_ that quick release in the shower, but he used to actually _like_ spending a little time with himself every now and then, and this damn lifestyle doesn't exactly warrant a person a whole lot of privacy for such things. So, fine. Semi-public it is then.

The women haven't switched positions, but the brunette is moaning and humming like the soft folds between the other girls legs are the best things she's ever tasted. It's kind of ridiculously hot, actually, the noises they're making and the look of pure ecstasy on that pretty face every time the older woman hits a good spot, and Sam's more than half hard now just listening to them. But something still feels off. He lets his hand hover over the obvious bulge in his pants, close enough to radiate heat but not actually touching, and he can't seem to bring himself to lower it down; no matter how many times he repeats to himself that this was _Dean's_ idea, and Dean is right beside him touching himself too so it's not like Sam's doing anything wrong. Still – something doesn't feel right, and Sam doesn't know what it is. There's this weird ache in his chest and pounding behind his eyes that he can't seem to make go away.

"Oh my _god_, what the hell is wrong with you?" Dean asks suddenly, blowing out a half-aggravated-half-amused breath like he somehow _expected_ Sam to have a problem with this.

"I don't know," Sam mutters, looking away. "This is just weird, man."

Dean laughs quietly. "You serious? You regularly bang your older brother and this is weird? You had your tongue so far up my ass last night I bet you could taste what I fuckin' had for dinner and _this_ is what's weird?"

Sam bristles a little at Dean's abruptness. "_God_, that's not – that's not the same thing."

"Why?" Dean demands, reaching his free hand over to the remote so he can hit the mute button. "Seriously, what's up with you? You said you missed … I mean, I thought this is what you wanted."

"I – no, I … I don't know." Sam pushes his dampening hair back from his face. "It was just a thought I had, I didn't really _mean_ anything by it, but then you came back with … _this_, and – I don't know! I guess it's just weird to be sitting here beside you, and I'm getting turned on but you're not the one I'm … I mean, we're supposed to be together, right? It's just … weird."

Dean turns a little so he's facing Sam on the bed, pants undone and cheeks still flushed in arousal but now he looks more serious; concerned.

"So wait, you … you actually think you're betraying me somehow because you're getting hard?" There's a hint of a smile behind Dean's eyes, but they're still soft.

Sam shrugs. It's stupid, he knows, but somehow he can't make the itchy, uncomfortable feeling go away.

"Hey," Dean says softly, reaching up to rub his thumb over Sam's temple. "Sam, its _porn_. This is okay. I mean, how often do I hit on our waitress or a witness or some random bar chick we're never gonna see again? A few times a week?"

Sam smiles a little. "More like a few times a _day_."

Dean laughs in spite of himself. "Exactly. And does that bother you?"

"Not really," Sam says honestly.

"My point. So stop freaking out, okay?" Dean leans in and kisses Sam gently. "Just watch the goddamn movie."

Sam glances back toward the TV. The girls have moved – the brunette has the blonde one bend over obscenely and she's sliding a shiny, silver toy in and out of her quickly. Dean presses the mute button again to undo it and the sound of harsh, pleasured moans fill the room. Sam gasps again and a flash of heat rolls through his stomach. Dean chuckles darkly and presses his lips to Sam's ear.

"Maybe this would work better if you had a little help?" he whispers into Sam's hair.

He reaches over and trails his fingers just above Sam's waistband, so lightly that Sam shivers a little as the touch tickles his skin. Then Dean unhooks the button and slides his hand inch by maddening inch into Sam's jeans, pressing his fingertips firmly into the hard line of Sam's dick as he goes. Sam shivers and makes an embarrassingly high noise in the back of his throat, just as the girl on the screen starts into a chorus of 'oh god, fuck me! Harder!' and the other woman complies enthusiastically.

"Mm, damn that's hot." Dean sucks a kiss into Sam's neck. "Know what's hotter, though?"

Sam just hums in pleasure as Dean wraps his strong fingers around Sam's straining erection, freeing it from his underwear and starting to stroke slowly.

"You," Dean breathes, answering his own question even though Sam wasn't quite coherent enough to ask. "Girls are fine. They're soft. But I like all this hardness better." He brings his other hand up to run over Sam's chest, illustrating his point. "This tanned, smooth skin stretched over all this solid muscle. You're so gorgeous, Sammy. All those girls I was with when you were gone? They couldn't turn me on as much as you do even if they tried. They weren't as good as you on their best day."

"Dean," Sam whispers, clutching at Dean's shirt blindly as warmth and pressure coils in the small of his back, twisting and burrowing into his spine.

"Come for me." Dean drags his teeth over Sam's earlobe, jerking Sam faster and squeezing the sensitive head. He digs a nail into the slit where Sam's leaking clear fluid and Sam draws in a quick, shuddering breath; head spinning. Dean's strokes are firm and strong and sometimes Sam wonders how he ever managed to get off when it wasn't Dean's hand wrapped around him. Dean's right – girls are pretty and soft and they smell nice but they are _nothing_ compared to this.

"C'mon," Dean murmurs, his breath hot and moist in Sam's ear as his talented hands push Sam closer and closer to the edge. "Forget about the chicks in the movie. They'd never be good enough for you anyway. You're all mine."

"Oh _god_, Dean," Sam groans, vision blurring around the edges. He can't actually see the TV screen anymore even though he's pretty sure he's still looking at it. And he can't hear their faked orgasms either, only the slapping of Dean's palm against his heated flesh and the pounding in his own head. "M'gonna," he slurs, balls drawing up tight, close to his body.

"Do it," Dean purrs. "Want you to come all over yourself, just for me."

The sound of Dean's amazing, gravelly voice rough against Sam's skin throws him over the cliff and into a freefall, and he cries out and shoots white hot spurts up onto his chest and shirt. He comes down slowly; breathing heavily and light headed. Dean works him through it and then pets at his softening flesh gently, whispering words into his ear that Sam doesn't specifically understand but gets the gist of. When he can open his eyes without the room spinning again, he blinks sleepily up at Dean and smiles. Dean drags his palm over Sam's messy, come-covered stomach and then licks it, humming happily and pressing a sticky kiss to Sam's cheek.

"_Hot_," he pronounces, grinning down at Sam and bumping his nose.

Sam grins back, but then an uncomfortable thought manages to worms its way into his blessed out brain and he worries at his bottom lip for a moment. "Hey, you weren't serious the other day, were you? About wanting a threesome?"

Dean rolls his eyes and laughs. "You can't even go a few minutes without being all emo about something, can you? No, I wasn't serious."

"Oh. I kinda thought … cause I know you're …" Sam stalls. He doesn't want to call Dean a slut or something, but his brother is … well-versed in unconventional sex. To put it nicely.

"No way I'd ever share you," Dean says, a little growl in his voice. "You can spank it to dirty movies all you want but you _better_ never let anyone else touch you. You're mine, got it?"

Sparks flare in Sam's chest at Dean being so possessive. That's exactly what he wanted to hear, really. He doesn't want to share Dean either.

"Yeah," he breathes, nodding fervently. "Got it."

"Good. Cause this?" Dean gestures between them. "This is _good_."

"Definitely," Sam agrees, lifting his head an inch so he can lick the taste of himself off Dean's tongue. It's salty and a little bitter but it tastes like him and Dean mixed together, so it's incredible. "'Cept now I'm all gross."

Dean chuckles warmly, pushing Sam's sweaty bangs off his forehead and pecking a kiss there. "You really are. We should hose you down before it dries. Wanna blow me in the shower?"

Sam squints and pretends to think about it for a moment. "I guess," he says, heaving a fake, put-upon sigh.

Dean swats him playfully. "Bitch."

Sam raises his eyebrows and smiles enticingly. "If I can make you scream, you're my bitch."

"You're on."


End file.
